A Pug on Adventure
by PM483
Summary: Sequel to "The Pug Puppy". John is sick, so Sherlock has to take Junior with him on a case. But a pug isn't good at a crime scene. Rated T for murder and some violence.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is another story inspired by my own little pug ;) and just to be clear, my dog's name isn't Junior, John or Sherlock. Because it's a girl and her name is Tilde. But she's still lovely ;)**

**The end will come in chapter 2, when I get from England :)**

* * *

**A pug on ****adventure**

"John, John!" shouted Sherlock downstairs.

Normally John didn't mind and sometimes he found it annoying. But this time, John didn't even mange to respond. He felt so tired that he couldn't find the strength to get up from the bed, so to have a shouting conversation with Sherlock through closed doors was excluded. Then he heard footsteps on the stairs.

"John." Sherlock said when he opened the door to his friend's room.

John heard another set of footsteps on the stairs, or well, two pair of small footsteps, and before he could answer Sherlock, came Junior into the room and jumped onto the bed. The dog crawled up on his stomach and went for John's face to lick it. But because he felt sick already, did he not exactly want dog saliva in entire face.

"Sherlock please take him." John said and tried to hold the dog away from his face.

"John, you don't have time to be sick now." Sherlock responded, but at least he took the dog. "Get up; we have a new clue in the case."

"Sherlock, can't you see I'm sick?" John sighed.

"Of cause I can see that but we have a case, so get up!" Sherlock demanded.

Junior was tired of being in Sherlock's arms and wanted to come back to John, so he squeaked and wriggled.

The annoying piggy/dog noises caused John an even worse and painful headache than he already had. "Sherlock, please, take the dog with you."

"I can't use _him_." Sherlock said demonstrative.

"Sherlock, please." said John and hoped that he could reach Sherlock emotional side, which he knew was in there somewhere. Deep inside, well hidden, buried under all the Sherlock-attitude.

"Fine." Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "That inspector Baynes can watch after him while I investigate."

"Thank you!" John said relieved.

Sherlock just mumbled something and then left the room.

They had borrowed a little cottage from someone at the local police while they were helping them solving the case.

Sherlock went to the kitchen, followed by Junior. He started to make tea, but that wasn't something Junior found very interesting, so he went to John's door where it began to scratch and squeak.

"Stupid dog." Mumbled Sherlock and went upstairs again to pick up the dog, and closed the door to the kitchen when he came back down, which made the dog scratch on that door.

"Why is John so much more interesting than me?" Sherlock said to the pug. "You certainly didn't left me alone the first day we had you." He said and was remained of the first time he had had the dog on his own. Well actually the first time he _ever_ had had to take care of a pet.

The dog looked at him, with its eyes looking in two different directions, it almost looked _guilty_.

"Okay, okay. I forgive you." Sherlock said with a little smile. He knew the reason why the pug loved John more, John was the one with the food.

When he had made tea, he went back to John's room. John seemed surprised that Sherlock had made tea for him Sherlock was also a bit surprised himself.

"So you take Junior with you?" John said and pulled himself up so he could drink the tea.

"Yes. But I call you if he doesn't behave."

"That's fine." John said and took a sip of the hot tea. "But I don't come."

Sherlock looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Fine!" and then he left the room again.

Junior was pulling hard in the leash when they walked to the cornfield where they had agreed to meet with the police, because it was where the latest trace of the murderer had been found.

Sherlock sighed when he saw the policemen. That was just incredible! Why was he there?

"Hey Sherlock, good to see you too." said DI Lestrade with a smile when he saw more or less irritated private-detective.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, and stopped two meters from the DI, with a pug there was more than happy to see a new face.

"We have good reason to believe that the murderer is connected to a murder in London late last night." Lestrade said, and then looked down at the dog, and back at Sherlock. "Since when did _you_ get a pet?"

Sherlock sighed. "No, it isn't. I read about it in the paper. The woman in London is black haired and in her early thirties, that doesn't suit all the other victims. The method is the same, but I also read that all her jewelries were gone, so it's clearly just a thief who covered it up by making it look like our serial killer out here. So you can take back and find him, and let me take care of this." And then to answer the other question he added "John bought it."

"Okay." Lestrade said sounding surprised. It was not because of the thing about the murder, but the fact that Sherlock Holmes had the responsibility of another living being. "How long have you been having it?" he had to know how long this dog had manages to survive by living with Sherlock, because Lestrade sometimes wondered how John survived.

"We have had it for three months." Sherlock sighed; he began to getting bored about the whole dog conversation. He wanted to take a look at the dead woman.

_Wow three months, it must be a __tough__ dog_, Lestrade thought to himself.

"Are we going to investigate the murder or what?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah sure, she's in here." Lestrade said and felt a little stupid that he was busier to know about a dog than doing his job. He led the way to an opening in the corn.

"Take this." Sherlock said and handed the leash to Lestrade while he took a closer look at the dead woman.

She was strangled, like the others. And a ring was clearly been removed from her finger, like the others. The rings were his trophies. No other jewelries were removed. Mid-20, dark brown hair, yes all the same as the others. There were no signs of a struggle, so she was been dumped here after her death.

Junior began to bark, because he couldn't see Sherlock anymore.

"Shut up John!" Sherlock yelled to the dog. He couldn't concentrate.

Lestrade, who had picked up the pug, came into the opening in the cornfield. "You named the dog John?" he said.

"No, it's only when it's annoying." Sherlock mumbled, he hadn't time to answer Lestrade's stupid questions.

No sign of a struggle. But the corn was broken all around, why? Because he wanted to cover which way he had taken. Why did he take the walk through the field? Someone had probably come by, which had scared the man, so he had most likely walked at bit deeper into the field and…

"What does John says to that?" Lestrade asked, trying to calm the little dog who just wanted to get over to Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed. "How am I supposed to solve this when you keep asking about that _stupid _dog?" he looked around on the ground to find footprints there could tell him the correct way. "Out." He said and pointed at the opening out to the little path there was along the field, it was annoying that he still could hear Junior. He heard Lestrade leave.

Where was he? Oh yes, the murderer had walked deeper into the corn, waited, then come back, and now where some of the corns were broken had he also broken the rest of them there were around the body. That had made a lot of footprints. The murderer hadn't dared to go out back on the path if the person who had walked by would came back, so he had taken one of the routes he just had made. Towards the forest, of course, Sherlock started to walk towards the forest.

Meanwhile, outside of the cornfield, was little Junior seriously tired of waiting for his master to come back. And he was tired of waiting with those strangers, so when he heard something moving inside in the field he had had enough. He wriggled to he got free of Lestrade's arms jumped to the ground and ran into the corn.

"Come back here." Lestrade said and walked into the corn, to where the dead woman was because his was sure that the dog had run to where Sherlock was. But there were neither Sherlock nor dog. Lestrade sighed. There were certainly something about that a dog is like its master.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It was begun to get dark early, which made it more difficult for Sherlock to follow the footprints deeper into the cornfield, but he manages to do it anyway. He then heard a familiar piggy-noise. Sherlock sighed "Stupid police can't even handle a little dog." He mumbled to himself.

He turned around to see Junior come sauntering with the leash after him, and the tongue out of his mouth because he was tired after the run.

Sherlock didn't have time for this. He thought that the murderer might still be in the forest. But going back with the dog would take too much time; he couldn't bind it to a corn plant because that would it just break down and he couldn't take it with him because Junior would make noises and expose him.

But he chose the last opportunity anyway. He took the leash off Junior.

Now where Junior had found Sherlock again, he could relax a little so he started to sniff around.

Sherlock didn't have to follow footsteps anymore, because he was so close to the beginning of the forest now. Just a couple of corn rows more and…

Junior began to bark. It was an _I-have-found-something_ bark. Just like when he finds spiders in the flat, he just sounded much more aggressive this time.

Sherlock ran to where the dog was. Maybe the murderer was threatening it. But of cause not. Sherlock swore that he would kill John for convince him take the dog with him, for then he came to where the dog was and saw what was barking at, well, he felt pissed. It was a hedgehog. Not a bloodthirsty murderer who had killed five women in the past three days, no, a little hedgehog who had rolled into a ball because the pug keep barking at it.

Sherlock turned around and walked toward the forest again. Actually was the hedgehog a good derivation of Junior's attention so that the pug wouldn't follow him.

Sherlock had finally reached the edge of the forest, and the footprints started to be easier to see in the soft soil. Sherlock looked around to see if there were other signs of the man, but he hadn't looked much before someone attacked him from behind, and a large arm was laid around his neck in a deadly grip. Sherlock tried to kick and grip around the man's arm, but he was to strong.

And then Sherlock heard it, that familiar, annoying bark. Junior comes ranging toward them. The suddenly appearance of the little dog seemed to surprise the attacker, at least long enough for Sherlock to slam him into a tree and get free from his grip. Sherlock was trying to catch his breath again, and the man once again tried to attack. But Junior got in the way and kept barking at the man who wanted to attack his master, as a good dog he knew that that certainly not was okay.

"Piss off!" the murderer yelled and tried to kick the dog, but missed.

While he was trying to see where the dog now was, so he could kick after it again, Sherlock took the chance to hit the man with a fist in the face. That didn't knock him out, but he got so surprised, that Sherlock could hit him again. The man was now clearly dizzy, tired and in pain. So Sherlock made one last attack by punching the man with an elbow in the ribs, so he fell back over and hit the back of the head against a tree which caused that he passed out.

Sherlock raised the man to sit up against the tree and bound his hands with the leash on the other side of the tree.  
"Don't ever try to kick my dog again." Sherlock said out of breath to the swooned man.  
He then turned around to find Junior. The little dog stood with its tail between its legs, ears down and looked at the man who had tried to kick it.

Sherlock walked over and picked it up. It was shaking.  
"Don't worry; he will not hurt you again." Sherlock said, trying to copy that soft voice John always used then he tried to calm the dog.  
The pug started to wag and tried to lick Sherlock's face and Sherlock let him do it. But he certainly didn't want John or Lestrade to find out. In fact no one should ever know.  
"That must be enough." Sherlock mumbled and held the dog a little lower so it couldn't reach his cheek.  
The dog was still shaking in the cold air, pugs perhaps have many wrinkles, but they certainly don't have thick skin. Sherlock held the little dog closer and found his phone.

_You can come and pick up your murderer in the forest, the side closest to the field. SH_

Sherlock send the text to Lestrade and find another way out of the field. Shortly after Sherlock's phone begin to ring.  
"Why is the man bound to a tree?" Lestrade asked.  
"He attacked us, it's simply self-defense." Sherlock said in his usually bored tone.  
It was a large field, and they were still not out of it.

"Why did you leave a murderer? Couldn't you had stayed to we came?" Lestrade asked.  
"Junior is cold I have to take him home."  
"What? Are you talking about the dog?" Lestrade would never learn to understand that man, one minute he hate the dog and the next does he rather hold it warm than hold an eye on a murderer.  
"Well," Lestrade began again "You got the murderer so I guess it's fine."

"Of course it is; it would have taken you twice the time just to figure out where to look. Even the dog did it better than you." Sherlock said and hang up on the DI.

He could see the road now, the one which led to the cottage. It wasn't a long walk.

* * *

It was evening when John finally got up from bed, not feeling well, but at least better. He had heard the front door slam one and a half hour earlier, so he knew that Sherlock and Junior had come home safe.

He expected to find them in the living room or kitchen, but neither Sherlock nor pug was to be found. John went upstairs again, to find his phone. But then he heard the familiar snoring, from _Sherlock's_ room. The door was ajar, and John slowly pushed it open. He couldn't help but smiling.

There was Sherlock sleeping on his site, front to the door, Sherlock Holmes actually _sleeping_. And good pressed into the duvet was Junior, also sleeping quiet, except for the snoring of course.

John couldn't stop himself from taken a picture. This was priceless.

"I will delete that." Sherlock mumbled.

John smiled. No doubt he would.

John closed the door again; they deserved to sleep a little longer.

* * *

**I just had ****to put ****a hedgehog ****into the story****, ****because ****my dog ****loves ****to hate ****them****. ****But at least ****she has ****never ****had to ****save me ****from ****a murderer ;)**


End file.
